bull

I need more years, i figured.
Young and old are relative matters ,time is running either way ,what if life gave you from one side and took from the other one ?would you still be happy with what you got ?what if the taken is so precious ,an invaluable ,but what you were given is critical to have ,or was critical, to help what was taken big time.

You run. Like a bull, actually, you are a bull, in an endless bull fight side show, it’s only a matter of life and death for you, bull .others are only spectators, if you had any spectators anyway. The auditorium is not round though, The Coliseum is too romantic,wake up. there is no going back here, its one narrow way, all the way, till the very end .this time you don't chase the red flag ,I'd think of it sometimes as if the red flag was tied around your eyes, gray is all what you see, remember ,bulls are color blind, often by choice!

you are running full speed, using your senses and feelings to dodge the Matadors ahead ,that’s quite high bet you put on yourself you know !but if you are not willing to bet on yourself ,why should anyone else do ? No one fights your fights! That’s what we learn, the hard way.

I guess at the end, you shall be praying for a bit of good luck, a blessing indeed, so along the way, when you finally get what you've been running your life for, you have a glorious chance to give back - to whom will be taken - before fate plays it's game.

In a perfect world, I'd tell time to stay still where she is and unleash me where I am, I will survive my fight, and then, give her all I wish to give her before she is gone, in a perfect world!

She is not greedy though, they’re never greedy .They are where “giving” came from. Happy they want you to be, and that’s all what matters to them.
Bless all moms.

Volley Ball

volley Today.. I remembered this incident ..
This is a tribute to my team mates and sports teacher at Abo Huraira Secondary Public school .

Ismael Obaidat is his name,the school's sport teacher ,
when i was in 8th grade he assembled a volley ball team,he picked up us based on his personal view on each of us ,you know,in public schools its different,its intimate ,i live in Draa el '3arbe,my teacher lives in Bag3a,half of my class mates are refugees .

Volley ball was even more "sophisticated" than basketball ! football is the sport and thats it, no one ever played volley !! he taught us from the very scratch! we would practice every day after school ,at the break,and some times skip the "not important" classes to practice .

i had the coordination right ,excelled at that only,nothing more !a horrible wing shooter,i couldn't serve well, so i was the setter -the center on the net,the second touch-.and often on the bench .

i remember the early morning meetings before we head to the yard ,we would talk about the new rules, Ostaz Ismael would tell us about why south Asians and south Americans are good at volley ball,it was another thing,a very different thing from what goes in our school(s) ,sport that is.it felt like a privilege to be picked ,to have a new shirt for the team after the principal lectured us on how hard he worked to get us the fund for that,and that we should do our best ,wash and return the shirts on time !

1st year i hardly played in the tournament,simply because we were eliminated at the 1st match .

the next year,i was one of the "old" guys, I'm now better, and I'd change position at all time at the game to be the center on the net because I'm the best .I played all matches ,we won all the way to the final .

our friends ,20-30 guys skipped school that day,knowing that the principal is going to be there,they came to cheer for us,and partially because the game was set to be at a girl's public school where they had a big gym.

we played and we were tied,to the last point in the tie breaker ,i served,we had a point,now we need another point and we win,the nerves got the best out of me,i served right into the net .we won their serve,and a team mate served,they hit one hard,we received it,and i dared to "place" the ball instead of preparing it to Moayyad,the captain,the big guy with the power shot,and we won.

until this day i remember how i jumped off the floor,and i remember what i saw,my friends coming toward me,and the coach with this big happy smile on his bearded face .

i miss those days,nice memories,i miss the public school,despite the smell of the bathrooms,and the horrible conditions,it was different,it was a second home.and i wish i can meet Ostaz Ismael again !